A Good Cry
by rikkijackson
Summary: The Doctor is someone who likes to bottle up his feelings. Feelings about a certain Rose Tyler who he just can't seem to let go. Maybe he needs some healthy advice from Martha Jones. Post-Doomsday.


_Gasp._

He sits up straight in his bed, forehead drenched in sweat. Covers astray. His two Time Lord hearts pounding unnaturally fast through his chest. But he doesn't care about any of that right now. He just needs to see her.

With all logic being thrown out the window, he leaves the room without turning back. He hastily sprints to her room and peers into the darkness. He knows she must be sleeping and will be very grumpy to find out he woke her up for no good reason, but he needs to reassure himself that his nightmare wasn't real and she's still there.

He blindly walks in the dark until his leg brushes against what he believes to be her bed. "Rose?" he whispers. After a few moments of silence, he tries again. "Rose?" he gingerly places his hand out to shake her shoulder, but all he touches is air. He grazes his fingers over the covers and feels no presence. _No Rose_.

He turns on the lamp on her night stand. His eyes widen in horror when instead of seeing his blonde friend tangled in blankets with her hair sprawled across her glowing skin, he sees an empty, perfectly made bed.

"Rose?" his voice rises as he frantically runs around the room in search for her. "Where are you? Rose, this isn't funny! Rose!"

His runs his hands through his hair madly with suddenly, raging eyes. "You can't do this to me! Not again!"

With fury pulsing through his popping veins, he knocks all of her belongings sitting on the night stand with his fist, catapulting them to the floor. He doesn't even flinch the slightest bit when glass from an old cup shatter, he just looks down. Looking down at the jagged pieces with a much softer expression than the one earlier. Looking down as if he had broken Rose.

A warm moisture pricks him behind his eyes, but he pushes it away. Crying isn't an option. Rose wouldn't want him to cry. He's stronger than that. Better than being reduced to such a low, human reaction.

"Doctor."

His eyes glance up, holding all of the hope in the world in them, but are then deflated when it is not Rose, but a very beautiful woman with dark skin and black hair to go with it. Oh, he knew Martha would come sooner or later. She always does.

"Doctor," she repeats softly. "It's been a week. You can't keep-"

"No need to worry about me! I'm brilliant!" The Doctor interrupts far too quickly with a forced grin that would scare any foreign alien away. "I'm perfectly fine, I'm.." his Adam's apple bobs as he meets her eyes. "Far from it."

Martha gazes back at the Time Lord, feeling sympathy for his loss. He swears for a split second he sees something other than that. A hint of _jealousy_ hidden somewhere. But he brushes it off, excluding the thought immediately.

She takes a seat, causing the bed to dip from her weight. "You know what you need? A good cry."

He scrunches up his nose in disapproval. "Crying? Seems far too human for me."

"It's actually good sometimes. Relieves sadness. Try it."

The Doctor settles next to her. "How?" he clears his throat, for his voice sounds nothing like his own. He's supposed to be the Oncoming Storm, not a frightened little boy.

Martha places a comforting hand on his knee. "Just think about her. Remember all of the good times you had. Just let it all out."

Just let it all out.

Rose. Brilliant Rose. How he misses her. Misses holding her hand. Enjoying life's fantastic moments. Traveling across the galaxy. He had so many plans for them. Plans including forever. But forever wasn't meant to be. Worst of all, he knew. He knew all along it would end.

The single tear that slips down The Doctor's cheek brings a smile to Martha's face. "There you go, you're doing it! Just let it all out."

_Just let it all out._

Vortex. White walls. Pete's World. Bad Wolf Bay. I love you. Rose Tyler.

That's when he let it all out.

His lip trembles, overwhelmed with emotions. His second tear slips. Then his third. His fourth. Five. Sixth. Seventh. He buries his face into his companion's shoulder, letting it all out like he never has in his nine hundred years.

All of his pain and suffering for Rose hurt. It hurt him for so long. But Martha's delicate fingers lightly stoking his hair makes him realize something. He's not alone. He has Martha Jones. Lovely Martha Jones. And Rose would want that for him. Would want him to have a good life. Want him to have a good cry


End file.
